


midsummer’s dreamcatcher

by Creatortan



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Banter, Billdip Secret Santa 2020, Brief mentions of other characters - Freeform, Dreams, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Human Bill Cipher, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Secret Santa, Soulmates, The Mindscape (Gravity Falls), Triangle Bill Cipher, accidental date, brief mention of mabifica, pov switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creatortan/pseuds/Creatortan
Summary: Sure, Bill may beintriguedby Pine Tree, maybe a littletooeager to read over his shoulder—but Bill couldn’t find Pine Tree’s mindscape! It had to have something to do with his soulmate—but Pine Tree didn’t think he had one!Bill gets caught in a dreamcatcher while watching his favorite human, and things gloriously tumble on from there.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150





	midsummer’s dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> A secret Santa gift for @epanouiii on tumblr!! Sorry it’s a little late—I hope you like it!

If there was one thing Bill loved, it was knowledge. And if there was one thing he loved more than knowledge, it was a good puzzle.

Pine Tree was a tantalizing puzzle of the upmost degree. He had a natural aptitude for magic, and a sharp kind of perception that made him a delectable mortal to watch in action. When he wasn’t mucking up Bill’s plans, Pine Tree was a delight! It must’ve been what mortals felt about reality TV! 

Oh...and his stubbornness would be such an asset if it weren’t tied to his silly “ _morals_ ” and “ _dignity_.” Really, if Pine Tree could be persuaded over, Bill knew he’d be a treat to play with—to have that overthinking mind set to work on making a mess of things...made Bill shiver just to imagine. 

So much more interesting than his poindexter great uncle, too. Fordsy was way too easy to sway—took all the fun out of it, really. His ol’ noggin stopped being interesting when Bill could so easily twist it. Tsk. 

So, it only made sense for Bill to be so...intrigued by Ford’s new, young protégée. Especially since, for once, Bill couldn’t figure out what was going on with Pine Tree’s mindscape. 

The Mindscape was Bill’s domain, of course, but every mortal had their own personal, pocket plane of it—the representation of their very mind. Bill could peek into everyone’s, with more or less the same ease depending on their magical defenses—of which most mortals had none. At first, Bill assumed he couldn’t see into Dipper’s because of some defenses left on the Shack...but when he turned his attention to Pine Tree’s glittering parallel, he found Shooting Star’s dreams wide and loud for him to peruse. There _were_ some defenses on the Shack, but Bill tore through those like wet tissue paper. Barely any effort at all, really. 

Bill could only _assume_ it must’ve been linked to Pine Tree’s soulmate. If he had one. All humans did, of course—a soulmate linked by dreams—but Bill wouldn’t be all that surprised if Pine Tree was the first human in history to break that mold. Bill would’ve at least thought Dipper’s soulmate to be his twin, since platonic soulmates weren’t uncommon—but Shooting Star was obviously linked to her little blondie rival. (Bill saw how Shooting Star’s loud, powerful dreams tended to overwhelm what little influence her other could muster in the mindscape, how Blondie would be pulled into dreams about flying pentacorns and boybands with teeth far too white and hair _far_ too shiny.)

Bill even saw Pointdexter be pulled into dreams with his soulmate—along with those of everyone else in town. He almost couldn’t avoid it! It was so easy to see their minds jump around to each other. Like blind frogs hopping around an acid pit. It was kinda cute! 

But Pine Tree...Bill couldn’t see him be linked to anyone, or his mindscape at all. It was as though it didn’t exist, which was impossible. The only way to not have a mindscape was to be dead—and even that wasn’t guaranteed!

The only way for Bill to _really_ check out Pine Tree’s mindscape was to get...ugh... _permission_. And after the Sock Opera fiasco, Bill was pretty sure it would take an obscene amount of prodding to get Pine Tree to agree to _anything_ —much less a one way ticket to his entire subconscious. 

So. For once, Bill was stuck. 

Metaphorically and physically. 

Because currently—as he’d been so rudely jerked around between planes—Bill was wedged between the stretched, bleached tendons of the dreamcatcher Shooting Star hung up above the window of the twins’ room. 

If it were, say, a cheap, fake dreamcatcher, Bill would’ve never got caught in the first place—but of course, it had to be _authentic_. Great thanks to Shooting Star’s new pen pal! 

Bill had only meant to take a peek—Pine Tree was hunched over a new clue and Bill was, in a word, _overeager_ to look at his notes. Before Pine Tree broke his pen all over them and had to start over, of course. 

The dreamcatcher clattered against the window frame as Bill tried to reorient himself. The physical plane was so _tedious_ , what with gravity and all. Bill was currently about six inches on each side and tangled up sideways. 

Pine Tree practically jumped three feet in the air when he heard the sound, and oh, leave it up to Pine Tree to brighten the mood. Bill laughed. 

“Hiya, Pine Tree!” Bill waved, shaking the dreamcatcher back and forth. 

“Bill! What the heck are you _doing_?” There was a hint of anger in Dipper’s voice, but more than that was overwhelming confusion, and didn’t that sound just _adorable_ on him?

“Listen, kid,” Bill started, trying to look as composed as he could, “I seem to have gotten myself a _little_...stuck...and could use the assistance. I’ll make it worth your while~” 

Pine Tree’s face immediately closed off to guarded consideration. 

“Really? You’re really stuck?” Pine Tree raised an eyebrow. 

“Listen, kid, we both know that _this_ ,” Bill gestured to himself, “isn’t my style.”

“Yeah, the last thing you’d want is to look like an out-of-control idiot,” Pune Tree replied, lip quirked. “A dreamcatcher? Really?” 

“Hey! Not many authentic ones are around anymore! I didn’t think Shooting Star would have the one real dreamcatcher in all of Gravity Falls!” Bill glared off to the side, “Figures I couldn’t flood the market with enough fakes...” 

“Okay, let’s say you’re really stuck...” (Oh yes, there was that intrigued gleam—!) “Why should I help you?” 

“Out of the bubblegum goodness of your squishy, floppy heart? To stop some other bozo from making an even worse deal with me? Because, as I said earlier, _I can make it worth your while?”_

Pine Tree’s eyes widened at the second point. 

“I don’t have any _bubblegum-goodness_ for you, Bill—and there’s nothing you can give me that I’d actually want or trust!” Pine Tree got off of his bed and started rummaging underneath it. 

“I could tell you about your soulmate....” Bill sing-songed. Pine Tree stiffened. 

“I don’t have one.” 

“Oh, now you can’t really believe that!” Bill’s eye crinkled in a grin. “And even if it were true...wouldn’t you want to know _why_?” 

Pine Tree seemed to hesitate. 

“No. I don’t know and I don’t care.” Pine Tree emerged from under his bed with a shoebox in hand. “I don’t have a soulmate and I don’t need one.” 

“C’mon kid! You could be the only human in history to not have a soulmate! Isn’t that interesting? Don’t you wanna know why?” 

“If I don’t have one then I don’t have one! What else is there to know? And why are you pushing this so hard? What is it about me and my soulmate bond that would benefit you so much?” 

Pine Tree took a pair of absolutely rancid shoes out of the shoebox and tossed them on the floor behind him. 

“Besides,” Pine Tree said, a truly manic grin on his face, “I have a nice box right here I could dump you in for an undisclosed amount of time...maybe even bury it somewhere secret...” 

Bill gasped, appalled and offended. 

“How _dare_ you!” Bill shrieked, thrashing in his beaded and feathered prison. “For everything I could _do_ for you? You want to squander this opportunity? I swear on Chaos itself, Pine Tree, _when_ I get out—not if, _when_ —I will personally and specifically make your life and afterlife miserable. And I’ll have plenty of time to think about it too! I mean, I could start with the—”

“Or.” 

Bill stopped his rant. His eye swept over to Pine Tree. 

“Or...?” Bill repeated. 

“Or, we could make a deal.” Dipper smiled again, all teeth, and something in Bill shuddered warmly. “My terms.”

They stared at one another. Pine Tree looking gloriously, enragingly smug and Bill still hanging uselessly like a fly in the teeth of some great beast. 

“Fine.” Bill would grit his teeth if he had any on him. 

—

Dipper had prepared for this exact moment. After his last disastrous encounter with Bill, and from the snippets Grunkle Ford had told him—Dipper did not want to make the same mistake twice. So he took a couple law courses some colleges were offering for free online, and topped them off with a few debate seminars, before practicing with Grunkle Stan. 

Stan was, for all intents and purposes, a much, much more stringent teacher than about any other Dipper ever had—including Ford—but they both knew it was only for Dipper’s benefit and, besides, it was nice bonding with Stan. They’d made it into a game, almost. 

Which is how Dipper was choosing to think of it as he sat across from Bill on his bed. He’d taken the dreamcatcher off of the wall and set it upright against the stacks of books he’d been reading from before, confident Bill couldn’t escape. 

Dipper flipped to a new page in his notebook and started writing, and Bill started talking. And if there was any lesson Stan taught that Dipper held close to his chest: never trust a talker. 

Though, even if Dipper didn’t get swept up in Bill’s words when writing their contract—that didn’t stop him from getting swept up in the banter. The whole process might’ve been cut in half of Dipper and Bill would’ve stopped goading each other into little bickering matches, slipping in insults. It almost felt like...teasing, in a way. It wasn’t like a full blown argument—they weren’t trying to make each other angry, not really. There was a rhythm to it, somehow. They threw their wits back and forth like a sparring match and, honestly, it was pretty fun. 

Bill was more intellectually clever than Stan or Mabel, but he also was better at catching Dipper’s jokes, references, and sarcasm—unlike Ford who sometimes missed Dipper’s intentions. Dipper loved his family, of course, but talking with Bill kind of...scratched an itch Dipper didn’t realize he had, reached a part of him he didn’t know he was neglecting. 

They just...clicked. 

And if Dipper didn’t know any better, he’d say Bill seemed to enjoy their banter too. 

After a ridiculously long time—thank god Mabel was sleeping over with friends and the Grunkles rarely came up to the attic—they’d hashed out a contract. 

Dipper knew Bill wouldn’t be content just leaving them alone for forever, but he didn’t expect Bill to be so okay with...being around Dipper. 

“You’ve got a lotta potential, kid, and I’m not just saying that to butter you up,” Bill said when pressed, “Maybe if I keep a closer eye on you, take you under my wing, we can work something out in the long run.” 

Well, that made sense. If the only options Bill really had were to team up with Dipper or never see him again, there was a logic to the former. Bill could be near the only person who’d ever been able to trap him like that—and Bill could save some pride if he could pretend he was benefiting from the whole arrangement. Dipper knew he’d have to give up something, he just didn’t expect it would be his company. 

(And of course he had a billion and one provisions to protect himself, his family, and his reality. At least for Dipper’s lifetime, he had Bill on a short leash, which in hindsight, was probably only a minor setback to someone as old as Bill.) 

When Dipper finally shook Bill’s hand, it wasn’t desperate, or naive—it was actually...almost a relief, kind of exciting. 

“Pine Tree, I think this will be the start of something very fun...” 

—

A few months passed, and a routine of sorts formed. Bill trained Pine Tree as promised, but when he wasn’t pulling strings in the Mindscape...he mostly sort of....hung around. If anyone saw him, he’d claim he was scheming—and he often did tell Pine Tree he had something planned—but most of the time he really didn’t. Most of the time...Bill was just very, very amused by Pine Tree’s company. 

And also by the mortal realm in general! He loved pouring mysterious substances into his eye to see what they’d do! Pine Tree called him a masochist, which was very cute of him. Like a naive little lamb. As if physical pain was anything to write home about. 

But of everything...Pine Tree refused to let Bill into his mindscape. Refused! Bill wasn’t any closer to figuring out what was up with Pine Tree’s soulmate situation than Pine Tree himself was. But Bill was the only one who seemed to care. 

He’d brought it up to Shooting Star once—after they’d been formally reintroduced, of course. She started, bizarrely, laughing at him, poking at his sides and asking him why he wanted to know so bad. Bill loved Chaos but not when he wasn’t in the driver’s seat! There was a reason he preferred Pine Tree’s brain over Shooting Star’s exuberance. 

But, of course, Bill didn’t really have a reason for wanting to know, aside from good old fashioned curiosity! Probably. It was a good puzzle! And had nothing to do with the all encompassing, burning rage Bill felt when he thought of Pine Tree belonging to anyone else. Else? Who else? Not Bill. Of course not. 

Anyway—Bill was sitting pretty in Pine Tree’s shirt pocket, which was bought and worn specifically for Bill. He could change his size up to a certain point, and even change his form when he wanted to! Which he had a handful of times—mostly to scare Shack customers. 

“If you can change shape,” Pine Tree asked, “then why not just become a human so you don’t have to stay hidden?” 

“Eh....” Bill wiggled a hand, “I don’t like changing perfection, and human forms are more work than they’re worth anyways! There’s so many inconsequential details that are, apparently to other meatsacks, _very_ consequential.” Who knew it would draw attention if someone had teeth made of the wrong material? Fun times. 

“So do you not know how to make a human form, or do you not care to do it right?”

“That sounds like a challenge, Pine Tree....” 

“It’s not a challenge unless you take it as one,” Pine Tree shrugged. 

“Okay, fine, how about another deal—just a little one, perfectly in the realm of our previous engagement...” Bill floated out of Dipper’s pocket to hover next to his face. “I make a human form that’s able to blend in, if _you_ let me get a peek of your mindscape—just a little peek! And you’ll be right there to keep me on a leash for it!” 

“You still haven’t told me why you’re so interested in my mindscape,” Pine Tree muttered. 

“What if I tell you that, too? C’mon, kid!” 

Pine Tree looked up in thought. 

“You know what? Fine. Let’s do it. But if you can’t make a good human form, you still have to tell me why you’re so interested in my soulmate _and_ you’ll have to admit you aren’t all knowing and don’t know everything about humans.” 

“Geez, kid, you’re killing me here!” Bill stuck out a hand.

“AND—you can’t ask for help. You have to do it on your own.” Pine Tree raised his own hand, waiting for Bill. 

“Deal.” And they shook on it. 

—

Not to say Dipper was confident he was going to win the bet, but he’d been around Bill long enough to know that something would be off, somehow. Hell, the body may be perfectly human, but Bill’s whole...personality may lose him the bet anyways. 

Dipper sat behind the counter in the Shack gift shop, doodling some ciphers on a spare napkin. The bell rang and he didn’t even look up when he greeted whoever walked in. It wasn’t until a pair of hands appeared on the counter in front of him that Dipper finally leaned back to properly look at his new guest. 

“Hey there, hot stuff; like the new digs?” 

Dipper blinked owlishly, his pen still poised in his hand. 

“Huh....” he said slowly, “You know, I was expecting something... _more_...with the outfit.” 

Bill did a spin, his hands gesturing. 

“Oh come on, Pine Tree,” Bill said with a grin that was far too familiar—given it now had a mouth to go with it. “As if I wouldn’t understand the intricacies of human fashion. In that most mortals don’t have it.” 

Then, a young man entered the shack and asked for the bathroom. Notably, this young man was wearing the exact same outfit as Bill—jeans, casual button-up, sturdy boots—down to the color choices. Dipper raised an eyebrow at Bill, who only shrugged in response. 

“So, tell me what you think,” Bill set his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. “Be honest~” 

Dipper leaned back, sweeping his eyes over Bill’s shiny new form. He opened his mouth to say something when a wave of glitter swept into the room. 

“Ooh!” Mabel exclaimed, “Dipper, who’s your _friend_ here?” She had a sly grin on her face. 

“It’s just Bill.” Dipper rolled his eyes as Bill waltzed over to Mabel, spinning for her as well and topping it off with a little bow. Mabel was eating it right up, giggling even as Bill returned to his place with Dipper. 

“Are you two going out? Oh you should! There’s a new art exhibit downtown that looks super fun!” Mabel started pushing both Bill and Dipper out the door by the shoulders, shoving a nice pamphlet into Dipper’s hand. 

Bewildered, Dipper and Bill stood on the front porch, the pamphlet between them. 

“Uh...” Dipper looked at Bill, who looked right back. 

“Well, no better way to take this meatsuit for a ride! Let’s go!” Bill hooked his arm in Dipper’s and started walking. 

Dipper stumbled along beside him, a traitorous smile on his face. 

—

Pretending to be a human person was _easy_! All he had to do was smile, wave, and nod—and if someone started getting shifty-eyed, he’d just compliment them on some random feature on their person!

“And may I just say—your hair? MUAH!” Bill kissed his fingers, “Very 80s, very chic.” 

Pine Tree rolled his eyes, but Lazy Susan did bring them a free cup of chopped strawberries and whipped cream. 

“Usually it comes with yogurt!” She said, placing the cup down. Her voice dropped to a loud, dramatic whisper. “But I wouldn’t do that to you!” 

“Oh! Of course! WINK!” Bill said, making sure to purposefully close both eyes. Lazy Susan laughed and walked away. 

“You do know winks are with one eye, not two, right?” Pine Tree popped a strawberry in his mouth. It left a shiny streak on his lower lip. Bill remembered he was asked a question and shoved a handful of strawberries in his mouth before responding.

“Are you sure? Because everyone I’ve winked at so far has laughed!” 

“Maybe you have more of an advantage blending in than I realized,” Pine Tree looked around, “We _are_ in Gravity Falls, after all.” 

“Should’ve thought of that before! Now let’s go!” 

“Wait—” Pine Tree yelped, barely grabbing his jacket as Bill bodily tugged him out of their booth. “We still have to pay!” 

“Are you _still_ sure?” Bill started to run. Pine Tree could only run after him. “Not if we don’t get caught!” 

They weren’t chased, but Bill could pretend! He pulled Pine Tree into a little alley to catch their breath, because—wow! Bill forgot about breath control! And Bill could admit, Pine Tree seemed to have a better handle on the whole _breathing_ thing than Bill. 

“You’re so dumb,” Pine Tree teased, “They know who I am and where I live.” 

“You’re related to Stan.” 

“Fair point.” 

Pine Tree took Bill by the hand to lead them out of the alley. Just like back in the diner, it was like Bill couldn’t stop being aware of a specific part of Pine Tree’s body. His hand. His hand holding Bill’s. There was nothing particularly special about it. But it was warm, and the grip was firm, and it was holding Bill’s. 

“Oh, hey, we’re right where we need to be,” Pine Tree remarked. Bill looked up and saw they were in front of the art gallery. 

“Oh, neat!” Bill exclaimed, voice echoing through the open door. 

—

They’d made it about halfway through the gallery, and Dipper couldn’t stop laughing. 

“I don’t even have an opinion here and even _I_ know this is _terrible!”_ Bill exclaimed, a hand on his hip, standing confidently in front of a particularly atrocious painting. A small group of people with dark undereye bags and expensive clothes glared at them. 

“Oh sure, like you know what art is.” Dipper nudged at Bill with his shoulder. “I’m sure if you had your way, every single artwork would just be of _you.”_

“And what’s wrong with that? Everyone knows the triangle is the most _perfect_ of shapes!”

“I thought that was circles.” 

“Oh chaos, don’t even get me _started_ on those jerks.” 

They circled around to another portion of the exhibit. The paintings here seemed to be a little better—but still kind of ugly. Bill kept humming loudly like he’d made an observation. 

“Oh, ew,” Dipper crinkled his nose. “This looks like a nightmare.” 

Bill squinted. 

“It is!” Bill smiled widely. “It _is_ a nightmare—one of _mine!_ See! I _do_ have artistic vision. Too bad it’s only recognized by….” Bill looked around. “...these kinds of people.” 

“Your handiwork?” Dipper inspected the painting closer. 

“Oh, yes,” Bill puffed up his chest. “Of course the real thing was much more well-crafted. There isn’t enough viscera here, and the shape of that skull is _all wrong.”_

“How was it supposed to be shaped, then?” 

“Like an 8th dimensional parabola!”

“Bill. No human can paint one of those. Our brains can’t even _process_ it.”

“Not without a little gumption! I’m sure with enough practice, even _you_ could see above the third dimension!” 

“I’ll pass.” 

They continued to walk around, Bill now providing running commentary on nightmares he had a hand in. It was both disturbing and pretty funny, and Dipper was sure that said more about him than about Bill. 

Soon, though, Bill loudly announced: 

“I MUST, AS YOU SAY, TAKE A FAT LEAK.” 

“Jesus Christ, Bill— _no one says that.”_ Dipper punched the bridge of his nose. “Just make sure you use the one that says ‘men.’” 

“Sure! I’ll abide by your arbitrary binary!” Bill gave Dipper a dramatic thumbs up before sauntering away, walking headfirst into a wall because he had his eyes closed. 

“Incredible,” Dipper muttered. 

“It is, isn’t it?” A voice said from Dipper’s side. Dipper looked over to see a guy about his age holding an iced coffee. “The way the artist used these colors here is even more interesting when you know the artist claimed to be in contact with demons his entire life. His personal journals are very fascinating.” 

“I thought all of these were modern?” Dipper quirked an eyebrow. 

“Oh, they are—mostly.” The guy gestured to the five paintings in a line on the wall. “These ones aren’t part of the rest of the new exhibit.” 

“Huh.” Dipper looked at the paintings, trying to see if Bill’s influence was in any of them. He had some theories about Bill’s signature touches he wanted to test out when Bill came back. 

“Actually, uh,” the guy said, drawing Dipper’s attention again. “My parents own this gallery. They actually have copies of the artist’s diaries if you want to see them some time. You’d have to come after gallery hours, though—my parents are pretty protective of those diaries.” The guy paused for a second. “Oh, my name is Chase, by the way.” He held out a hand. 

“Dipper,” Dipper shook Chase’s hand. “It’s a nickname.” 

“Much cooler than mine.” Chase grinned. He had dimples. “My parents call me ‘Bubbles.’”

Dipper laughed. 

Chase talked to him about the paintings for a while more, noting the influences of the artist’s personal life on them—little details about the things these ‘demons’ had reportedly revealed. 

Chase was in the middle of explaining the significance of the number eight when an arm threw itself over Dipper’s shoulder. 

“Sorry I’m late! Some guy got his leg caught in between the stall doors and flooded the place! I had to take the scenic route out so I didn’t ruin my shoes.” Bill said, gesturing with his free hand. “So, Pine Tree, you ready to kick this dinky joint or what?” 

“Um, hi?” Chase waved awkwardly. Bill gave him a blank look. “I’m Chase…?” 

“Lovely.” Bill deadpanned, still staring at Chase, who looked more uncomfortable by the second. 

“Bill, don’t be such an asshole.” Dipper turned to Chase, “This is Bill, my….uh—”

“Roommate.” Bill grinned, a malicious glint in his eye. “Which, by the way, I’m sure Shooting Star will be wondering where we are and we should be getting back. You know how sacred movie nights are!” 

Bill moved his arm and took Dipper’s hand in his own. 

“Um, I—I’m sorry if I came in the middle of anything?” Chase said, his face flushed and his brow furrowed. “Uh, I can give you my phone number if you ever want to look at those diaries.” Chase took out his phone and Bill, gently, used his free hand to push the phone away. 

“There’s nothing you have that would interest Pine Tree,” Bill said, his voice reverberating just a little around the edges. Dipper jolted, looking at Bill’s face—a face which now had glowing scleras and inhumanly tiny pupils. 

“Um, yeah, yeah sorry Chase—we have to go.” Dipper hurried Bill along outside of the art gallery. As they walked further from the building, Bill’s stare remained hard and impassive in the middle distance in front of him—though his eyes looked human again. His hand holding Dipper’s was, the whole time, gentle. 

“Hey, what was that about?” Dipper asked, as they wandered through the woods towards the Shack. 

“What was what?” 

“You know...humans don’t have glowing eyes, Bill.” Dipper nudged Bill with his shoulder. “You were giving him scary eyes. You okay?” 

Bill huffed, frowning. 

“It’s just…” Bill grips a hand over his chest. “This body is broken anyways—it feels broken. Feels all...tight and weird. Around you. With your...your _lips_ and _hands_ and—there! Right there! Looking at me with those eyes! Do you do this with _all_ humans?” 

“Bill—”

“You certainly did it to _Chase._ Yeah, sure, as if _that_ waste of atoms and carbon would be, in any way, _interesting._ You’d get bored of him faster than Shooting Star goes through a pack of stickers.” Bill sat down on the Shack porch, taking Dipper with him. “With _your_ mind, your _potential—_ you got lucky getting this contract with me, Pine Tree, ‘cause no other human could ever keep up with you.” 

“Bill.” Dipper put a hand on Bill’s jaw, tilted his face to look at him. “Is this why you’re so hung up about my soulmate?” 

Bill froze. 

“Huh...I guess so.” Bill’s eyes were wide, the gears turning in his head. 

“If only you could’ve just _said_ you like me, like a normal person,” Dipper said fondly, “...but I wouldn’t like you if you were normal, huh.” 

Bill blinked, mouth widening into a smile. 

“I gotta tell you, Pine Tree—you’re not gonna regret being mine.” 

“The contract?” Dipper moved closer to Bill, sitting thigh by thigh next to him. “That goes both ways, you know—that means _you’re mine,_ too.” 

Bill’s grinning face lit up with a blush. 

“Is this another human thing, or is this form _really_ broken,” Bill asked, “because I feel like that time I poured Frank’s Red Hot in my eye, but in my body, and it doesn’t hurt.” 

Dipper laughed. 

“We can talk about it later,” Dipper licked his lips, a little nervous, noting how Bill’s eyes followed the action. “Right now, can I try something?” 

“Sure!” 

“Just, uh, relax, okay?” Dipper darted forward, pressing his lips against Bill’s. Bill, flailing but enthusiastic, pressed forward against Dipper, clumsily trying to mirror Dipper’s movements—a little too stiff and with far too much teeth. When Dipper peeked open one of his eyes, he was unsurprised to find Bill staring right back. Typical. Dipper pulled back, laughing again. 

“WOW! Is _that_ why I’ve been staring at your mouth? What other mouth stuff can these things do?” 

“Oh my god, Bill—be quiet! Mabel’s inside!” Dipper playfully pushed at Bill’s chest. “And besides, uh, I wanted to maybe...do something else.” 

“Something _else?”_

“Yeah, uh...I know you _technically_ may have lost the bet, but...I still wanted to, I don’t know, hold up that part of the deal and let you see my mindscape.” 

“Really?” Bill was practically vibrating. “But first—since I, of course, always keep my word...let me hold up _my_ end of the deal.” Bill needlessly cleared his throat, “I, Bill Cipher, am _not_ all-knowing and _don’t_ know _everything_ about humans, considering I didn’t know about that mouth thing you did, which we _will_ do again.” 

Dipper snorted, shoving Bill again.

“... _and,”_ Bill continued, “Part of the reason I am so interested in your mindscape is, yes, because I do feel a boiling, overwhelming, searing rage at the thought of another human having you, but _also_ because, ah—I can’t find it.”

“You...can’t find it?” 

“I can’t find your mindscape, kid.” Bill’s mouth quirked into a line. “Every human has a personal mindscape, a linked, alter-dimensional representation of their mind. This alter-dimension is in _my realm,_ but kind of...hm.” Bill tapped at his chin, deep in thought. “If my dimensional plane were a kingdom I controlled, someone’s mindscape would be like...their own house. Under my umbrella, yes, but still theirs and, in a way, private.

“Not really, fully, private, of course. There _are_ ways to keep me out, but for most humans, I can _easily_ see into their mindscapes, see their dreams, and see how they connect with other humans through soul bonds.” 

“Right!” Dipper interjected, “because soul bonds are revealed through dreams—so when someone shows up in their soulmate’s dream...they’re visiting their soulmate’s mindscape?” 

“Bingo.” Bill pointed a finger gun at Dipper. “But only the subconscious manifestation of dreams. Mindscapes have different parts too—take Stan for example. The Shack in his mindscape was his _mind.”_

“It had all of his memories.” Dipper leaned forward, wishing he had a notebook with him. 

“And his conscious sense of self, yes.” Bill continued. “The forest _around_ the Shack is where Stan’s _dreams_ take place. It’s also the _best_ place to practice magic and lucid dreaming without threatening your own memories, F-Y-I.” 

“So...most of the time, regular people don’t access their own...uh, Shacks? And only stay in the area outside of their memory core?” 

“Most people don’t know their ‘Shack’ exists! And most of the time they’d wreck it if they did! I’ve seen it—not pretty, but very fun! Anyways—when I look out to everyone’s mindscapes, I see their dreams, and even though I _can_ infiltrate their cores to see their memories and whatnot, most of the time—I don’t need to! It’s too much work anyways.” 

“Right...so where does that leave me?” 

“Well, kid, like I said—I can’t _find_ your mindscape. I look to where it _should_ be, and it’s not there! I can see Shooting Star’s dreams just fine, so it can’t be anything external—it’s gotta be _you,_ or your soulmate.” 

“My soulmate?” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve never seen anything like you, kid! You’re special! But there are ways where,” Bill wiggled his hand vaguely. “Soulmates can affect dreamscapes. Take your sister for example! She’s got some pretty powerful dreams, so she doesn’t really _get_ to visit her soulmate’s dreams that often—her own dreams steal the show!” 

“But if you can’t see my mindscape at all, you can’t follow where I go in my dreams…” Dipper pursed his lips, “and everyone has a mindscape, because everyone has a mind—and I definitely have one, since I’ve been there.” 

“You’ve been there?” 

“Yeah, I mean—I have regular dreams sometimes, but I lucid dream a lot, too. And I think I’ve found my ‘Shack’ too...I just thought I was a really good lucid dreamer, but my library is the same every time.” Dipper stopped himself. “It’s okay for me to tell you all this. We’re going into my mindscape anyways and I’m not letting you _go near_ my memories.” 

“Fair enough.” 

“So, uh, how do we do this?” 

“Well, Pine Tree, now that I have your permission, I can just follow you the next time you go to sleep.” Bill stood up. “Which, speaking of—care for a nap?” 

—

Bill didn’t necessarily _need_ to be _with_ Pine Tree to follow him into his mindscape. Bill didn’t _need_ to crawl into the twin bed with him and feel Pine Tree’s arms around his waist. 

Well. Most fun things aren’t necessarily _needed._ And what Pine Tree didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him! Especially not when he so graciously _offered_ by lifting the blanket for Bill. 

Anyways—following into Pine Tree’s mindscape was the easy part. They’d ended up in Pine Tree’s dream forest—with Pine Tree already lucid dreaming, keeping the area nice and clear. Bill stretched his limbs out—back in his comfortable, superior, equilateral form. 

“Okay!” Bill cracked his knuckles. “Let’s see what you’ve got cooked up, Pine Tree.” Bill’s eye quirked in a grin. He flew up over Dipper’s mindscape, trying to see where exactly they were. 

Something….something was familiar here…

Wait, where did Pine Tree’s dream forest end? It shouldn’t be this large….there’s…

“Hm…” Bill flew down to a sort of magical barrier, Pine Tree easily on his heels. Bill pushed through the barrier, feeling it ripple under his hand. It was most definitely Pine Tree’s magic; Bill would recognize that signature with his eye closed. 

Suddenly, it clicked. 

“Wait. Wait wait waitwaitw _aitwaitwait.”_ Bill’s front glitched out, just a little, flickering with some wayward thoughts. “This is...this is _my_ domain.” 

“You—you don’t mean _just_ the mindscape dimension in general, do you?” 

“Kid, if this dimension is my kingdom... _your_ mindscape is sitting right in the castle.” 

“What the _fuck?”_ Pine Tree reeled back, “Do you even _have_ a soul?” 

Bill, unknowingly, turned a bright baby pink. 

“Didn’t think so—but then again, _you_ didn’t think you had a soulmate at all!” 

“So this is why you couldn’t find it,” Dipper mumbled, his head whirring wildly with the realization. “It was too close to home...whenever I slept I just came here—and you _don’t_ sleep or dream at all.” 

Bill snapped his fingers and a table appeared between them, a copy of their contract sitting prettily on it. 

“So...do you think we need to change a few things in our contract with this new information, _soulmate?”_ Bill was positively gleeful. 

Dipper manifested a pen in hand. 

“Oh, I’m sure this thing will _never_ be finished, but okay—let’s get the most pressing matters down... _quickly_.” The toe of Dipper’s shoe ran up one of Bill’s skinny legs under the table. “I, uh, had some ideas I wanted to try out here.” 

“Oh ho ho!” Bill leaned over the table, leering at his new mate with a playful air. “Don’t worry, Pine Tree, there’s plenty to do in the Mindscape...and we have _plenty_ of time.” What with their souls being linked? Bill was certain they were in it for the long run—the long, longer than the human lifespan, long run. 

And from the look on Dipper’s face, he was in it too—and just as excited. 

And, well, the soft press of Pine Tree’s lips on the space right under Bill’s eye felt very nice, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to my boy Ares for getting mad at dipper for skipping out on the chance to see higher dimensions bc that made me laugh FAR too much


End file.
